


the acacia trees of north africa

by SerpentineJ



Category: Doctor Prisoner | 닥터 프리즈너 (TV)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Other, Post-Finale, this is like.. chaotic as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: Yije laughs.“You've been so friendly recently, Vice President,” he says. “I almost feel as though I'm being placated. Should I be worried?”“Of course not.” Minsik's mouth turns downwards in an almost-pout, an expression that's odd for his age – the kind of showy gesture he makes when he believes he has the upper hand in a scenario. “I've simply realized that my career path goes so much more smoothly when I'm working with you, instead of against you.”“Really?” Yije smiles, cocking his head. “I'd thought you would be making a move to take over the presidency at some point. I didn't think you had it in you to completely pledge your loyalty to me. Unless there's something else that you want.”
Relationships: Seon Minsik/Na Yije
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	the acacia trees of north africa

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: yes i know minsik is married and his wife is valid . Im just going to throw vaguely polyamorous relationship in here . Minsik and his wife are both bi, have been closeted to their rich affluent families their whole lives, and occasionally date the same gender outside of their marriage and their kid(s) dont know
> 
> me: how do I write yije and minsik being like.. friendly.. like NOT trying to kill each other behind each others backs

Being a hospital president comes with a lot of paperwork.

Na Yije taps his pen against his tabletop. 

He crosses his legs and leans back in his chair. The leather is plush against his back, and his desk is made of luxurious wood. The glittering Seoul night skyline stretches out beyond a wall made entirely of glass. The office is too big for one person to work in alone. In comparison to the medical director's office at the penitentiary, this room seems to sprawl out in front of him, all expensive bookshelves and stiff couches.

It's only his third day on the job, and he's already bored.

There's a knock at his door.

And here's something to make his night a little more interesting:

"President Na," Seon Minsik says, poking his head through the door. He seems to be in a good mood. A jovial smile stretches his cheeks. "You're still here."

Yije raises his eyebrows.

"Mm. Are you leaving for the night?"

"Not quite."

Minsik steps through the door and closes it behind him with a click.

"The president's office," he says, clasping his hands behind his back, taking slow, measured steps towards Yije's desk. "Are you enjoying it?"

"As much as you are enjoying the vice president's office, I assume," Yije says. A light, cordial smile just barely curves the corners of his lips. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The light tap of Minsik's polished shoes against the floor is loud in the quiet room. "Was there something you needed?"

"I was wondering if you had a prior dinner engagement," Minsik says. "If not, we should have a drink. To celebrate our successful campaign."

He takes one more step and ends up in front of Yije's desk. Yije touches his temple with one fingertip. He lets his eyes trail off from Minsik's face to the dim corner of the room. His hair is black and shines like an oil slick in the low lighting, and the planes of his face are lit from all sides by the blue glow of the inset lights in the ceiling and the warm light of his desk lamp.

Minsik watches him. The smile doesn't leave his face. His eyes are black. His gaze drops from Yije's cheek to his ear to the pale stretch of skin above his jugular vein and slowly slides back up again.

"Alright," Yije says, setting his pen down on his desk. He pushes his chair back and straightens his suit jacket. "Did you have a place in mind?"

\--

Minsik drives them to an upscale-seeming restaurant. It's not the kind of place Yije would come to by himself, but he has a lot of experience in bearing things he doesn't like, so he smiles when the other man holds the door open for him and steps over the threshold. 

He had thought it would take Minsik a little longer to put together a plan to ursup his position, but if he's starting already, Yije doesn't have any complaints. The work has the potential to get deadly dull if he doesn't put in a little effort to seek out a challenge here and there, and it's better to remove a threat like Minsik sooner rather than later if he's going to act up.

Minsik gets a bottle of whiskey and two glasses with their orders.

"To the acacia trees," he says, raising his glass. 

Yije almost laughs.

Minsik smiles at him. Yije knows the more friendly he seems - the more obliging and obedient he acts - the more likely it is that he's plotting something behind his back.

That's fine. It'll make running the hospital a little more interesting.

"To our symbiotic evolution," he replies, and clinks their glasses together. 

\--

Meetings are hell, Yije quickly discovers. He's played enough office politics and mind games to know the score by now, but all of his former job descriptions have included actual hands-on treatment of patients. Now, his day mostly consists of listening to heads of departments' complaints, and paperwork, and budget review.

The one silver lining in the whole situation is that he can begin to bring his ideal hospital into reality. Yije starts a few initiatives. He makes the hospital's surgery more accessible to the not-so-well-off. He watches the organ transplant lists for signs of corruption. Mo Yira and Lee Jaein look over his proposals, and laugh at him sometimes, but he gets their approval and a budget.

Seon Minsik, on the other hand, doesn't seem to be doing anything.

Maybe he's being paranoid. Maybe Minsik has accepted his position and resigned himself to working under Yije. Maybe Yije is searching too hard for something to occupy him after he's achieved the goal he's been obsessively pursuing for three years. 

"You should go out and meet people," his sister says over the phone. "Yije, you've been chasing Lee Jaejun for three years. When are you going to get married?"

"Funny," Yije says, smiling. What is he going to tell the people he meets? He used to be a fixer for rich and influential clients looking to get out of paying for their crimes through the medical system? "What about you? You haven't met any nice guys in Canada yet, have you?"

"Of course not," Yihyun replies. Yije laughs. His sister is serious to a fault, but trustworthy and dependable in the most dire of situations. 

She has had to deal with so much more than him. He both envies her for being able to stay by their mother's side while she passed away, and understands the agony she had felt over those few months, watching her die, slowly and painfully, not being able to do anything about it. 

At their mother's funeral, she had draped herself over his hunched form, barely shedding a tear, giving and seeking comfort in turn. He regrets not being able to protect his mother, but he also regrets not being able to protect his little sister, and exposing her to those struggles all on her own, and then, even after that, putting her in further danger because of his selfish desire for revenge on Lee Jaejun – he regrets all those things, but he doesn't know if he could do anything different if he had to live through it again. 

"You're not going to do anything risky anymore, right, Yije?"

"I'll be careful." He says.

It’s not an outright denial. She makes a dissatisfied noise but doesn't probe further. 

He wonders about it after she hangs up, though. What had his aspirations been before Lee Jaejun had dropped a bomb on his life? What had he wanted to do? It feels far away, like another life. When he had been pursuing Jaejun, he had done it without regard for himself, but he hadn't given much thought to what he would do after he'd succeeded. His life - his school connections, his professional associates, his spare time and dinner appointments - have all been nothing but fodder for his goal of vengeance for the past three years. 

Thinking about it for a few moments yields no answers, so he decides to shelve the matter and go to sleep.

\--

Lee Jaehwan walks into his office the next morning. He's completely turned over a new leaf. His suit is clean-cut and pressed, and his bangs fall neatly over one side of his forehead.

"Doctor Na!" He shouts, as soon as he bursts through the door.

"Oh, oh," Yije says, getting up from his chair and dropping his pen. "What? What happened?"

"Huh?" Jaehwan stops in his tracks. "Congratulations. On becoming the president." He winks and grins. "I knew our talented Yije could do it."

"Well," Yije says, amusement coloring his voice. Jaehwan is nothing like the entitled druggie second son he had been when Yije had first met him. He's changed for the better, even if he can't erase his sins. His smile is infectious. "Only because of your mother and sister's support."

"Of course," Jaehwan says, puffing out his chest. "Our family can do anything."

Yije smiles. 

"Was there something you needed from me?" He asks.

“Not really,” Jaehwan says, glancing around the office. “I just haven't had the chance to congratulate you. Wow, the office looks so much cleaner than when the last president was here.”

“Is it different?”

“That old guy had too many certificates on his wall.”

Yije laughs.

There's a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Yije says.

Minsik opens the door.

“Vice President Seon,” Yije says, walking around the desk, coming to a stop standing next to Jaehwan. “Did you need something?”

Minsik's eyebrows flatten out when he catches sight of Jaehwan. Yije is suddenly, for some reason, reminded of the fruit basket that Minsik had brought Jaehwan in the hospital before they had arrested Jaejun.

“I had something I wanted to discuss,” he says, folding his hands behind his back, “but I'll come back another time.”

He inclines his head and leaves again. Yije frowns after him. 

“Doctor Na?” Jaehwan says, blinking at him. “Yije?”

–

“How's work?” Yije's current lunch partner asks him. He's a former classmate Yije had met at a college reunion. 

“Well,” Yije says, laughing to deflect the question. “As it always is.”

The other man smiles charmingly – Yije's polite demeanor doesn't falter as he assesses him. He isn't really interested in Yije's work. Yije has encountered enough people who want to sleep with him to be able to tell at a few moments' glance.

Well, he's handsome enough, Yije figures, so it won't hurt to humor him. His sister's words echo in his ears, even if this probably isn't what she'd had in mind when she had told him to meet people.

The conversation is fine – the food is decent – the hints of flirting that the other man lets slip into his tone start to appear more and more. Not a disagreeable situation to be in.

“I have to get back to the office,” Yike says, after a little over a half-hour of casual chatting and subtle lead-ins from the man across from him. “I have a meeting scheduled for this afternoon.”

It's not strictly true. The other man smiles at him and pays for their meals. Outside the restaurant, he sets a hand on Yije's shoulder – his palm is warm even through Yije's thin blazer, and lingers a little too long, and shifts ever so slightly from the top of his shoulder to the side of his bicep.

Yije doesn't move away.

“President Na?” 

He turns around.

“Vice President Seon,” he says, and it seems like he's running into him a few too many times today.

“Someone you work with?” Yije's lunch partner asks. His hand had dropped off Yije's upper arm when he had turned – it returns to rest lightly on the outside of his elbow, barely a touch. Minsik's gaze lingers on it.

“Mm, well,” Yije says, noncommittal. He turns back to his lunch partner. “I'll see you later.”

“Sure.” The other man says. “Let's get that dinner sometime.”

He waves goodbye and sets off down the street.

“Are you going back to the office?” Yije asks Minsik, tone full of polite curiosity.

“Mm, yes,” Minsik says, facing him. “Were you having lunch?”

“With an old acquaintance from medical school,” Yije says pleasantly. He smiles and scratches his cheek in a way that he knows makes him look more casual, as is his habit. His gaze drifts away from Minsik's face and back again. “My sister keeps telling me to meet people, now that Lee Jaejun is behind bars.”

They start to walk back in the direction of the office together.

“I seem to be seeing a lot of you today.”

Minsik smiles at him.

“A coincidence, I assure you,” he says. “Do you meet your friend often?”

“Not quite,” Yije sighs, slipping his hands in his pockets. It feels like he and Minsik are playing a game, like their loaded conversations at the penitentiary, heavy with double meaning and slow implication, but he can't quite figure out what the objective is. The creases of amusement at the corners of Minsik's black eyes make him look like he has a purpose Yije doesn't know about.

What kind of game is this? Yije decides to tread carefully.

“You seem to be quite close,” Minsik says, tone light. The frame of his glasses glints silver in the corner of Yije's vision. “Were you good friends in college?”

“Not particularly,” Yije replies. His anticipation starts to rise. It doesn't show on his face of the pace of his stride. “We met again recently at a college reunion. He asked me to have lunch.”

The detail about the other man being the one to show the initial interest is bait – Minsik seems inordinately interested in Yije's personal life. His reaction will show whether Minsik is looking to gain anything professionally from this conversation or if it's truly meaningless small talk.

Minsik laughs. It's the laugh he shows when he's being challenged. The hairs on the back of Yije's neck stand on end. 

“Really,” Minsik says. 

They walk through the front door of Taekang Hospital. 

“I'll have to take you out for lunch sometime,” Minsik says, and Yije starts to get an idea of what this game is really about.

–

Their competition starts in earnest the next day. Yije has always dressed well, but that morning he picks out his favorite suit – the one that fits perfectly in all the right places – and slicks his hair back with extra care. It will be interesting to see how far Minsik will go with this. He almost misses being at constant odds with the other man. At least it made life interesting, even if he can live without the occasional mental breakdowns over the dozenth version of his plan to catch Lee Jaejun collapsing.

“President Na,” Minsik says, holding the staff elevator door open for him. “Good morning.”

“Mm, you too,” Yije replies, tone light. He steps in and Minsik lets go of the door. 

He watches the other man out of the corner of his eye-

“Wait, wait, wait!” A voice comes from the hallway - a hand sticks itself between the two closing elevator doors. Lee Jaehwan sticks his head in the elevator. “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” Yije says, smiling. “You seem to be in a good mood.”

Jaehwan grins at him. He enters the elevator – he makes his way to the right side, to press the button for the floor his office is on, forcing Yije to shuffle to the left. He brushes against Minsik's shoulder. Minsik doesn't move away at all. Yije slips his hands in his pockets.

The elevator reaches their floor.

“After you,” Minsik says, still a little too close for absolute comfort. His hand comes up to linger just below Yije's elbow.

\-- 

“I'm glad you called me,” says Yije's acquaintance from college, swirling his wine in his long-stemmed glass. His fingers are broad and square-tipped, but they handle the glass with a surgeon's precision. 

“I'm glad I called,” Yije says, smiling insincerely. He doesn't particularly like wine. He prefers beer or soju. He takes a sip from his cabernet anyways. 

He's wearing one of his better suits – one that's trim around the waist and fitted around the shoulders – and has tousled his hair a little more than he would if he were at work. Judging by the way his dinner partner is watching him, and how his gaze keeps wandering down the line of Yije's necktie, it will take even less effort than he had thought to take this next step in his and Minsik's game.

This guy had had a reputation for being a player back in college. It's a good thing he hasn't changed. They'll both get what they want tonight.

“The food is good,” the other man says, taking a bite. Yije licks his fork in a way that's maybe a little bit much. His acquaintance's eyes follow the pink flash of his tongue. This is something Yije is used to – provoking people to get what he wants, whether it be with his mind or his body. He smiles.

“Would you like to split dessert?” He asks. “I have another place in mind.”

–

They end up in a hotel room.

–

Yije wears a turtleneck under his blazer to work the next day. It's not up to par with the Taekang upper executive dress code, he knows, but if the way his neck had looked in the mirror that morning were anything to go by, wearing a normal suit would be several degrees more obscene.

“Do we have the budget for a complete overhaul of the machines in the pediatric department?” He asks, cross-legged in his swivel chair at the head of the meeting room. Minsik is at the chair to his right hand side and the heads of department sit along the long table in front of him.

His financial analyst says something about a new donation being granted by some other rich family who wants their name on a hospital wing. He makes a non-committal noise and marks it down on his notepad.

“Okay,” he says – he gestures at the next person to speak. While they're talking, he glances around the room – most peoples' attention is on the current speaker. Minsik's eyes are roving around the room, watching the reactions of the other people at the table. Yije smiles. The opening he was looking for.

Minsik's eyes cast in his direction – he pulls at his turtleneck's collar the slightest bit, as though he's fiddling with the edge of it, just enough to expose the edge of the purpling mark that's bruised in right above his jugular vein. He feels Minsik's gaze stop on him. A rush of pleasure at the successful baiting washes through his brain. He almost smiles with satisfaction. 

He lets his fingertip press for a moment against the mark, visibly exerting pressure on the skin – he doesn't even look in Minsik's direction, as tempting as it is. 

“...so the endocrinology wing is requesting more funds for the next quarter to offset these unexpected expenses,” the Head of Endocrinology finishes. Yije has barely heard anything the man had said. This new game is unexpectedly exciting. 

“Mm,” he says, pulling his turtleneck back up to conceal the marks. “Okay.” 

He turns to his right side.

“That sounds fine,” Yije says, “doesn't it? Vice President Seon.”

He smiles. Minsik stares at him before breaking into a wide, white-toothed grin. Everything about his smile is fake.

“Of course,” he replies.

–

Minsik follows him to his office after the meeting ends.

“Are you alright, President Na?” He asks, fake-concern dripping like honey from his voice, concealing other intentions – he's turning up the intensity of the game they're playing now that Yije has made a responding move. Minsik clasps his hands behind his back. “You seemed distracted at the weekly meeting.”

“Mm, I'm fine,” Yije says. His eyes crinkle around the corners with amusement. “I had some trouble sleeping last night, is all.”

The smile doesn't drop off Minsik's face even hearing the double innuendo. He takes one step forward. His hands fall back to his sides. His pupils are black. Yije makes a point of keeping his casual air.

“Trouble sleeping,” Minsik says, slowly. “I hope your health isn't suffering.”

“Of course not.” Yije replies, voice light. “I'm not the kind of person to lose sleep over bad things.”

Minsik's smile seems more like he's baring his teeth now.

“Was there something you needed?” Yije asks, raising his eyebrows, feigning ignorance – he cocks his head, exposing the side upon which he knows Minsik has seen the mark on his neck – Minsik's gaze is drawn to it like a magnet. Yije watches his jaw tic and his fingers stretch out the slightest amount by his side. He represses the laugh that wants to bubble to his lips.

“No,” Minsik says. His voice sounds the slightest bit strained. A note of forced cheer has entered his tone. A well of satisfaction springs to life in Yije's chest. “Nothing.”

–

Yije's apartment feels empty. The shelf in his living room that had hidden his flowchart of corruption is gone. His head sometimes feels like that blank space – purposeless, after achieving his goal of putting Lee Jaejun behind bars. 

He fiddles with the small sliding door. If he takes it off, it will be a normal shelf. He can fill it with books, or trinkets, or something like that.

Or maybe he'll find a new target. It's not like corruption in the medical industry has completely gone just because Jaejun is out of the picture. He could hunt down every twisted doctor and scam artist in Seoul if he wanted.

He closes the sliding door. Taekang Hospital will be enough to occupy him for now, he decides, and strips his suit jacket off and hangs it up in his closet. He takes off his tie and starts to unbutton his dress shirt – slow, mechanical movements, his thoughts already drifting from place to place, aimless without something to fixate on. 

He had begun his quest for revenge to fill the hole in his heart and soothe the guilt he had felt over the death of his mother, and to channel the anger he had felt towards himself outwards towards the worse perpetrators – now, with his victory hollow in his hands, he's left with the sense of loss that remains, threatening to swallow him whole when he lays his head down at night. 

He pulls on a soft T-shirt. The only thing that's stayed the same as three years ago is that his mother is still dead.

When he pulls the blankets up to his chest and closes his eyes, he slips into an immediate, black, dreamless sleep.

–

“How is the presidency?” Han Sogeum asks, stirring her drink with her straw. She's so serious in the office, but she lets loose a little more around her brother, and she's starting to act casually with Yije as well. It's not an unwelcome change. She reminds Yije of his sister, sometimes.

“Full of obstacles,” he says, smiling. “How are your patients?”

“Well enough,” she says. “Lee Jaehwan in particular seems like he's made a lot of progress.”

“Are you allowed to tell me that? Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that.”

“Are you going to dock my pay?”

She takes a sip – Yije actually isn't entirely sure what she's drinking. Something pink and refreshing-looking. He laughs.

“I'll let it go this time,” he jokes. Falling into a kind-of friendship with Sogeum is strange, after most of their relationship had been trading information about Han Bit and Lee Jaejun, but he can say he enjoys talking to her on a personal level. She and Han Bit are two of the only people in the world who might understand completely what he's gone through in the past three years, and that makes them family, in a way.

“Are your nightmares getting better?” She asks.

He smiles disarmingly, trying to deflect from the topic.

“I'm fine without therapy.”

She looks at him with empathy in her eyes. This is why it's dangerous to have a friend who's a psychiatrist. If you let them in just a fraction too deep, they'll never leave.

–

“Are you doing well?” Yije asks Yihyun. “Are you sure you don't want to come back to Korea?”

“I'll be back for the holidays,” Yihyun says. “My job here is nice. Even though I had to move because of Lee Jaejun at first, I like it here.”

“Okay,” Yije sighs, tracing one fingertip around his glass of water. He taps his foot and shifts the phone against his ear.

“Isn't it nighttime over there?” Yihyun asks, perceptive as always. “You sound tired. Is the hospital work hard?”

Yije smiles.

“It's alright,” he says. “Something to keep me busy, anyways.”

“I bet you miss doing surgery.”

“A little.”

She laughs. 

“You sound like you're in a good mood.” Yije says.

“Do I?” She says, voice bright. She seems happier in another country, away from the medical system that left her mother to die and planted her brother in prison, and away from him. She's always been more mentally resilient than him. “My presentation at work went well.”

“Oh, really? Congratulations,” he says. “You'll take over the company yet.”

She makes a noise of amusement.

“You need a hobby, or something, Yije,” she says.

He almost smiles. He may have found a hobby, but it's probably not one his sister would approve of. He thinks of the way Minsik's jaw had twitched earlier in the day, when he had smiled so pleasantly at him with his turtleneck tucked safely under his submandibular lymph nodes, near the base of his chin.

“Yije?”

“Mm? Ah, I'm here.”

She sighs at him.

“Don't be too hard on yourself, okay?” She says. “You know Mom wouldn't have wanted you to make yourself suffer.”

“I know,” he says, feeling the roots of sadness, planted by his mother's death three years ago and fed by anger and obsession and hatred, tighten their grip on his heart.

–

Minsik doesn't make a retaliatory move for the next few days. Maybe he's given up – Yije tries not to be too disappointed, but he feels a bit like a child who's discovered that their shiny new toy isn't that interesting after all. 

It's a shame. Yije knows Minsik is married, but he hadn't thought the other man was one to back down so easily, barely out of the initial gate. The most promising prospect to liven up his rather dull tenure as hospital president ends up not being that promising after all.

In the meanwhile, he gets another message from his one-night stand. He fiddles with his phone and debates whether to answer or not. It's not like he has anything better to do in his free time, and it saves him the time of bar-prowling or sketchy internet hookups under a fake name whenever he feels the urge.

“President Na,” Minsik says, stepping into his office. “You're still here.”

Yije is in the process of pulling on his suit jacket. The blemishes on his neck are mostly gone and what remains has been carefully covered up with makeup.

“I was just leaving, actually,” he says, blinking. “I have a dinner appointment.”

Minsik smiles at him. It has a predatory edge to it. Yije raises his eyebrows. 

“Can you spare me a moment?” He asks.

Yije straightens his lapel. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He draws one finger down his cheek in a seeming contemplative motion.

“Of course,” he says, finally, “but can we make it quick? I told my college friend that I wouldn't be late.”

Minsik's jaw tenses, but the smile doesn't slip off his face. 

“I wouldn't want to make you late for your appointment,” he says smoothly. “I only wanted to remind you of the board meeting tomorrow morning.”

“Right,” Yije says, picking up his briefcase, buttoning his jacket. “Didn't you want to propose your new initiative at the board meeting? I'll support you, of course.”

Minsik takes three steps forward. 

“Much appreciated,” he says, grinning. 

Yije smiles insincerely. He walks around his desk to stand next to Minsik – if this keeps on, he actually is going to be late. It wouldn't be so irritating if their game had proven to be of any interest, but today he hadn't eaten lunch, and the restaurant he's meeting his acquaintance at happens to have a fantastic duck dish.

“If there's nothing else,” he says, gesturing towards the door.

Minsik takes a step closer. Yije doesn't move.

“Of course,” Minsik says, barely a foot away from him – he cocks his head and reaches out to run his fingers along the shoulder of Yije's blazer. Yije's eyebrows tick up his forehead by a fraction. Minsik holds his gaze with a smile on his face.

“You had some dust,” Minsik says. He makes a show of brushing off his fingers, but doesn't move to step away. Yije catches the barest scent of his cologne. It smells expensive. 

Yije watches him with a curious expression on his face.

–

The duck is dry, and the wine annoyingly floral. Yije will need to bring his blazer to a dry cleaner's. Its time spent crumpled on the floor of a hotel suite has left some deep wrinkles in the fabric.

–

Yije can't wear his turtleneck the next day because of the board meeting. In retrospect, this hadn't been the best decision, but it could work in his favor – he covers the marks on his neck that his current “friend” seems so fond of making with well-practiced makeup, and makes sure not to get any concealer on his shirt collar. 

He has to fight the urge to touch his neck, like a habit. He scratches his jaw instead. Minsik sits to his right hand side at the board meeting. Yije sees his eyes going over the skin of his neck, looking for incriminating evidence.

He smiles. This could be interesting yet, but baiting an animal with a weak response isn't very fun, so he decides to let Minsik earn his attention back a little if he wants it.

When Minsik presents his item, and calls for voices of support, Yije throws his hat enthusiastically into the ring. He gives a glowing opinion of his vice president. The way Minsik's chest puffs out and a smirk settles on his face in a way that he can't quite hide at the praise is amusing, to say the least.

–

His makeup ends up wearing off through the day – Yije stops in the bathroom a little before lunch to put more on, because the redness is starting to show through. He's in the middle of watching the door and pressing a concealer wand to his neck when it swings open – he starts to cap the little bottle and put it in his pocket, until he sees that it's Minsik who has entered the bathroom after him.

“Vice President,” he says, giving him a nod and uncapping the bottle again. Minsik inclines his head and moves to the urinal – Yije goes back to covering the marks on his neck. This isn't a trick he's had to use since college, really. He's gotten rusty at it.

Minsik sidles up next to him at the sink. He turns on the water.

“President Na?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. “What's that? Are you alright?”

Yije smiles, skin-deep. He caps the makeup bottle and slips it into his trouser pocket.

“It's nothing,” he says, knowing full well that Minsik knows what it is. 

Minsik finishes washing his hands. He frowns at Yije with mock concern.

“If you're injured, you should ask one of the doctors to treat you,” he says, drying off his hands – he moves in closely, and grabs Yije's shoulder with a surprisingly firm hand so he can't move away. Minsik's eyebrows flatten out in a way that Yije has learned to interpret as irritation as he sees the spots of makeup on Yije's neck.

Yije smiles at him. He waits a moment and enjoys the way Minsik's eyes dart across the skin of his neck, mentally cataloguing all of the places where makeup has hidden the little red bites, and then lets his gaze meet Minsik's, self-satisfaction evident in his eyes.

“Is something the matter?” He asks. He doesn't pull away from Minsik's hand. Minsik's fingers flex against the bone of his shoulder, as though he wants to wipe the makeup away.

Minsik forces a smile onto his face. 

“Nothing,” he says, dropping his hand but not moving back. “I'm simply so grateful for your support at today's board meeting. Can I take you out to lunch?”

–

Minsik drives them to a hangover soup restaurant.

“Ah,” Yije says, smiling. “Is this the hangover soup restaurant on the way to the penitentiary that we were going to go to, that one time?”

His word choice implies intimacy, as though they’re close friends, reminiscing on the past. He sees Minsik's pleasure reflected in his posture.

“It is,” he says, holding the door open for Yije, gesturing for him to go in first.

“How are the folks at the penitentiary doing these days?” He asks, as though he doesn't know. It's a convenient topic of conversation.

“Well enough,” Minsik says, settling down at a table. “Choi Dohoon is adjusting to his new role.”

“Is he?” Yije says. “That's good. He was so afraid of the inmates when he started working there. I'm not sure how he would have taken to the medical director position if all had gone according to your plan and he had succeeded you.”

“Well,” Minsik says, smiling, “at that time, the medical director position was quite a cushy job.”

“I did make a few changes, didn't I,” Yije says.

They place their orders with the friendly-looking woman in an apron who ambles over. 

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Yije asks, breaching the topic of the true reason Minsik has brought him here. Asking these questions is like standing at the edge of a cliff. It's exciting. He folds his hands over the table.

“Mm. Not particularly.” Minsik says, tone nothing but amicable. It's a dead giveaway – Minsik knows that Yije knows that he doesn't do anything without purpose or intent. “I only wanted to express how grateful I am to you.”

Yije laughs.

“You've been so friendly recently, Vice President,” he says. “I almost feel as though I'm being placated. Should I be worried?”

“Of course not.” Minsik's mouth turns downwards in an almost-pout, an expression that's odd for his age – the kind of showy gesture he makes when he believes he has the upper hand in a scenario. “I've simply realized that my career path goes so much more smoothly when I'm working with you, instead of against you.”

“Really?” Yije smiles, cocking his head. “I'd thought you would be making a move to take over the presidency at some point. I didn't think you had it in you to completely pledge your loyalty to me. Unless there's something else that you want.”

Their game has begun in earnest. Yije knows that it's only a game – the only type of power struggle that can happen between them now that they're politically on the same side. Although it's a shame, even if Minsik were to bring it from flirting into the realm of explicit action, Yije would turn him down. He has no interest in helping a married man step out on his wife. 

“Mm. Well, I won't say that there's nothing else that I want,” Minsik says, voice heavy with implication, the corners of his lips curling upwards, “but rest assured, I have no plans to seize the presidency.”

“Hmm.” Yije makes a noise – he strokes his chin with two fingers, lets his fingertips trail down to his neck, smudging the concealer layered over his skin. He sees Minsik's smile twitch. He wipes the traces of makeup on his napkin. “I suppose I'll have to take your word for it.”

–

Work gets busy over the next two weeks, so Yije's game with Minsik shifts to the back of his mind. He gets to the hospital every day at 6 in the morning and doesn't leave until midnight. A combination of a budget miscalculation from the financial department, the collapse of part of the patient records system in the IT department, and a small breakout of a contagious disease in the pediatric wing has left Yije's days full.

Minsik is busy as well – Yije relegates as many tasks as he can, but it's almost too much work for two people to oversee alone. He falls dead asleep when he gets home every night and drags himself out of bed three hours later to do it all again.

“I miss the penitentiary,” he says to himself, pulling on his tie. He barely eats. His schedule today is full of situation-handling meetings as well.

“Are you alright, President Na?” Lee Jaein asks him in the elevator, folding her hands over her briefcase bag. “You look...”

“Thanks for noticing,” he says, sighing, rubbing one hand over his face. He's gotten on semi-friendly terms with Jaein, even if she's technically his boss. He respects her, and she's calm and intelligently logical – easy for someone like him to work with. Their meetings are refreshingly brief. 

She cocks her head at him.

“Well, I suppose that's to be expected, with everything that's happened over the past week and a half,” she says, almost sympathetic. “Thank you for dealing with it efficiently.”

“You're very welcome,” he murmurs. The elevator bell dings for his floor. He inclines his head. “I'll be off.”

He gets to his office – the sun is barely up. He yawns and boots up his computer. He vaguely wishes he lived with someone who could cook for him when he's too exhausted – he's been eating nothing but restaurant food and microwave dinners for the past few days. It's not that he's not used to high-stress work, with his hunt of Lee Jaejun going on for three straight years, on top of his work as a doctor, but the lack of sleep is starting to get to him.

Everything will settle down soon, he tells himself.

–

Things do settle down. He sighs in relief, a few days later, as IT messages him to tell him the last kinks in the patient records system have been ironed out, and finance sends an email that says they've found the extra budget to cover the calculation mistake. 

It's a relief. Tonight he'll sleep a full seven hours.

There's a knock at the door.

“President Na,” Seon Minsik says, entering. “Have you heard? The issues have been resolved.”

Yije looks up at him from his seat.

“Yes,” he says, standing – his head suddenly swims. He blinks. Minsik's glasses shine in the light coming in from the window. Black spots fill his vision. 

“President Na,” he hears Minsik say, as though it's through water. “Na Yije.”

“Mm,” Yije says, stumbling over his own feet. “I-”

The floor comes rushing up to meet him.

–

He wakes up on his office couch.

“Oh,” he breathes as he comes back to consciousness, blinking his eyes open widely. “Ugh.”

“Are you awake?” An annoyingly sardonic voice. Yije closes his eyes again.

“Vice President Seon,” he groans, starting to sit up.

“It seems like you haven't been sleeping well,” Minsik says.

“Of course I haven't,” Yije mutters, curling into a sitting position, pressing his palms into his eye sockets. “I've gotten less sleep in the past two weeks than in any one week in the last four years, and that includes when I was trying to catch Lee Jaejun.”

Minsik sighs.

“Are you a workaholic, or just stupid?” He says.

“The former,” Yije says, exhaling and swinging his legs over the side of the couch. His head spins. He closes his eyes and catalogues his symptoms – headache, dizziness, light sensitivity, and the feeling of his brain shriveling up in his skull probably means dehydration and increased blood pressure. Nothing that will keep him down for very long. He starts to get up to make his way to the mini-fridge that's stashed in the corner of the room.

Minsik pushes a water bottle into his hand.

“Sit down,” he says, his tone not brooking any argument. It's definitely strange – Yije decides to ignore it for a moment and drinks the water. His head starts to feel better. He forces his eyes open.

“You know, you have some surprising mother-hen tendencies,” Yije mutters, elbows propped up on his knees, waiting for the water to work its way through his system. It would have been better to have a sports drink, or something with some sugar in it, because he's sure his blood sugar level is low, but there's only water in his mini-fridge. He makes a mental note to stock it with some juice. “That time I got stabbed by Lee Jaejun, too. You kept nagging me about the infection.”

He slips out of his polite tone with exhaustion. He’s too tired to realize he’s addressing Minsik familiarly.

“That's not because I'm an atypically worry-prone person, it's because you are absolutely insane,” Minsik says, raising his eyebrows at him. “How does it look for me if the person who I'm planning to follow up the corporate ladder collapses on the job?”

Yije rolls his eyes. He doesn't have the energy to put on a show right now. He finishes the water and shakes his head, feeling the hydration seeping into his brain. The dizziness starts to fade. 

“Right, right,” he says. He rubs his temples, and then checks his watch. He's been asleep for an hour. “Shoot. I had a meeting-”

“I postponed it,” Minsik says, crossing his legs and leaning back in the armchair. “And the rest of your meetings for the day. It was nothing important, anyways.”

Yije exhales. When was the last time he had taken a vacation? Revenge doesn't give one any time off. Maybe his sister is right, and he's been disregarding himself too much over the past few years.

Minsik is watching him.

“Okay,” Yije says, rubbing the back of his head and blinking his eyes open. “Can you write down my new meeting times and leave it on my desk? Thank you.”

Minsik uncrosses his legs and leans forward.

“Are you not going to go home?” He asks.

“I have some work I need to finish before tonight,” Yije says, dismissively, pinching the bridge of his nose and forcing some blood into his brain. It's already the afternoon. “I'll be fine, so you can leave now.”

“If I didn't know better, I would think you were kicking me out,” Minsik says, almost petulantly. Yije fights the urge to roll his eyes again. “I'm the vice president, after all. I should support your workload.”

Yije breaks into a sudden laugh.

“Thank you for being so supportive,” he says, exaggerating just a little bit, giving Minsik an indulgent smile. “But it's not like running this one hospital is any more stressful than taking down Lee Jaejun. This week just happened to be bad timing.”

It's actually true – running the hospital usually only takes a little more time and effort than running the penitentiary, aside from weeks like this where multiple things blow up at once. He usually finds himself home at night with nothing to do. He'd been getting by for three straight years on five hours of sleep a night, and nothing but obsessive pursuit of his goals during the day. It's probably just all the stress he's put his body under coming back to bite him.

Maybe he'll take a longer holiday vacation than he usually does this year, and spend some quality time with his sister. 

Minsik eyes him distrustfully.

“If you're sure,” he finally says, getting up and folding his hands behind the small of his back. He raises his eyebrows. “Don't stand up for another ten minutes. Doctor's orders.”

“You're not my doctor,” Yije says, but he smiles anyways. 

–

Yije goes to see his actual physician the next day. He's one of the lower level physicians at Taekang Hospital who Yije has known since he was an ER doctor there. He's been sworn to secrecy about any of Yije's possible health issues by both his bosses and by their old friendship.

“What did I tell you?” His friend says, clicking his tongue at him. “I said you were going to collapse from overwork one of these days. Even among doctors, you're one of the worst.”

“Mm,” Yije says. “I wasn't that bad.”

“You were definitely the worst when you were in the ER,” he says, shaking his head. “I think you used half of the IV bags in the hospital just to keep up with all your shifts.”

“I paid for those.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't change my point.”

Yije snorts. His friend slides his stethoscope from the right side of his chest to the left, and then along his back.

“Well, luckily, your heart seems to be fine,” he says, pulling the stethoscope from his ears. “You look a little anemic, but you were always pale, and I won't be able to tell if there's anything actually wrong with you without a blood test. I can draw some blood today if you want.”

Yije shakes his head.

“It's fine,” he says, pulling his blazer back on. “I think I'm just tired. I'll catch up on sleep this weekend.”

“And make sure you eat properly,” his friend says. “You're a doctor, for God's sake, you should know better than anyone that you'll destroy your body by being dehydrated and malnourished. Eat one of those protein salads or something.”

“You don't have to nag me so much,” Yije says.

“You're not going to be young forever,” his friend sighs, helping him off the hospital bed. “Someday, you're going to be old, and frail, and you're going to say oh, God, why didn't I listen to my friend when I was spry and healthy-”

–

He rests that weekend. His college friend texts him, asking if he wants to go out for dinner and dessert, but he doesn't have the energy. He buys the most nutritious groceries he can think of and eats all of them, regardless of the taste, and drinks water every half hour, forcing his body into working condition again.

–

“I heard you collapsed,” Han Sogeum says.

“Who did you hear that from?” Yije mutters. 

“Lee Jaein told me,” she says, because of course Mo Yira and Lee Jaein know every detail of his physical condition from his physician. “Are you sure you've been sleeping properly?”

“Everyone seems so concerned about me this week,” he says, smiling. “I'm flattered at the attention.”

Sogeum looks at him. Do you think I'm a fool? Her eyes seem to ask.

His smile softens.

“I'm fine,” he says, and he might mean it this time. His nightmares are starting to fade. This brings with it a whole new type of fear. He's put a picture of his mother and sister on his desk at home so he doesn't forget their faces. “I'm sleeping okay without medication, too.”

“As long as you're sure,” Sogeum says, a little bit of hesitation in her voice. “I told you I'd trust you completely, but it would be nice for you to trust me a little bit, too.”

“I do trust you,” Yije says. “If I need help with anything, I'll ask.”

–

No one brings up his fainting episode again. Minsik comes into his office to ask how he's doing under the guise of antagonizing him. Lee Jaehwan sends him a fruit basket, which is entirely unnecessary and overboard – but then again, he's Lee Jaehwan. 

Yije absently bites into a grape as he flips through his mail.

“Oh?” He says. A golden envelope falls out of his newspaper. He picks it up. It's an invitation to Oh Junghee and Jung Eunsik's wedding. He laughs out loud.

“Did you get one, too?” Sogeum asks him over the phone. He's smiling at the envelope in his hand.

“Yes,” he says. “I can't believe they didn't tell us they got engaged.”

“I'm a little scared to go to this wedding,” Sogeum says honestly, and Yije laughs again.

“It'll be fine,” he says. “Prosecutor – or, Attorney Jung will keep Ms. Oh in line.”

“No, I'm a little more concerned about the PDA we're going to be forced to witness,” Sogeum says, long-suffering. Yije chuckles.

“Is Han Bit coming, too?” He asks.

“Of course,” Sogeum says. “He's buying Ms. Oh a very lavish gift, too, because he's so grateful to her help with dealing with the late Lee Deoksong's Taekang shares.”

He fiddles with a pen and marks down that he'll be attending the wedding, sans plus-one. He wishes his sister were here. She would get a kick out of dressing up to go to an elaborate wedding – and knowing Oh Junghee, it will be elaborate.

“I suppose this means I need to get my suit dry-cleaned,” he murmurs.

–

“Did you get the invitation to the wedding?” Minsik asks him in the elevator the next morning. 

Yije chuckles.

“I did.” He says, smoothing down the front of his suit jacket. “Are you and your wife attending?”

“Of course,” Minsik says, with surprisingly good humor. “We have to take credit for their happy relationship, after all.”

Yije smiles.

He’s becoming rather fond of Minsik. It’s not objectionable, working with him. His sense of humor is agreeable, and his body language is easy to read once you get to know him. Yije has started to grow complacent with Minsik at his side, showing no signs of mutiny, which is a very dangerous thing.

It could even be said that he’s begun to trust him. 

“Of course,” he replies, sharing in the joke.

Minsik glances at him.

“And,” he says, an edge of curiosity that sets the blood in Yije’s veins to a skipping pace, “will you be attending with anyone?”

It’s a question with a thinly veiled direction. Yije doesn’t want to answer – he’d like to draw out the suspense a bit more – but it would be rude not to reply when asked so directly.

“I’ll be attending alone,” he says, and he doesn’t miss how Minsik’s smile grows a little wider. “My sister isn’t in the country at the moment, after all.”

“Ah,” Minsik says, unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice. “Your sister? A shame.”

\--

The wedding is a grand affair. It’s to be expected – Oh Junghee rents out one of the biggest wedding halls in the city, and fills it with enough influential people to fund Taekang Hospital a dozen times over. 

“I’m so happy you could make it,” Jung Eunsik says in a completely fake tone of voice, shaking Yije’s hand. Yije laughs.

“Don’t be so formal, you’ll hurt my feelings.” He says, clapping him on the shoulder. He and Eunsik have gotten a little more friendly, now that Yije isn’t constantly breaking the law. 

“Do you see the amount of higher-ups here?” Eunsik hisses to him, a bit of his casual accent slipping back into his tone. “I’m sweating out of the soles of my feet.”

“Good to know,” Yije says, making a face. “And where’s the bride?”

“She doesn’t want anyone to see her until the ceremony,” Eunsik says, rolling her eyes. “Nevermind that most of these people are here for her. Or, her father.”

Despite everything, Eunsik looks happy. He’s shifting from foot to foot with nervousness, and his hair is slicked back and neatly styled. There’s a bit of a shine on his forehead from sweat, and the apples of his cheeks are permanently rosy, flushed with excitement – Yije looks him up and down, and a soft smile breaks out on his face.

“I guess it’s good that you didn’t end up transferring to Suncheon,” he jokes, and Eunsik shakes his head, laughing nonetheless.

Eunsik soon gets pulled away by an important-looking group of suits. Yije sends him off with another handshake and a sympathetic look. He wanders around the reception hall, occasionally stopping to chat with people he vaguely recognizes from the prosecution.

“Doctor Na!” Han Sogeum says, looking fetching in a simple robin’s egg blue dress. She’s matching with her brother, who is hot on her heels, a tie of the same shade folded crisply around his collar.

“Dr. Han. Han Bit.” Yije replies, smiling. “You both look well.”

Across the room, he spots Minsik and his wife enter the fray. Their figures are barely visible for a second before they’re obscured by the throng of people.

“Thanks to you, Yije.” Han Bit says, his usual beaming look on his face. Yije doesn’t see him that often, since Bit spends most of his time at the Taekang corporation headquarters building, instead of the hospital, with Mo Yira. 

“Oh, don’t say that.” Yije says. Bit looks much healthier. There’s blood in his face and a spring in his step. “You're the one who did all the work. Have either of you seen Ms. Oh? I should go say hello before the ceremony starts.”

\--

Bit and Sogeum point him in the direction of the bride’s dressing room. He knocks politely on the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other –

“Who is it?” A familiar voice snaps from inside. Yije raises his eyebrows. 

“Na Yije,” he says, announcing himself. “Ms. Oh? Is that you?”

The door swings open. Oh Junghee is a sight to behold – 5 foot 4 of voluminous wedding dress and thunderous rage. There’s a hanbok hanging in the corner of the room. They must have decided to have both a Western-style and a traditional ceremony, Yije thinks absently, as Junghee grabs his wrist and yanks him inside, slamming the door behind him.

“Is something the matter?” Yije says. He glances down at where her grip on his wrist is turning his skin white. “Ah. That hurts.”

Her expression seems like it's carved from stone. At least half of the blush staining her cheeks is from frantic energy, instead of makeup. He begins to worry that something's really gone wrong, but just as he's about to open his mouth and ask -

“Is,” she says, “Eunsik doing alright?”

Yije blinks at her.

“Well, he seemed nervous, but doing fine,” he says, gently peeling her hand away from his arm. “Should something be wrong?”

Junghee sighs. She props her hands on her shoulders, exhales, and folds her arms over her chest all in short order, as though she can’t keep still. 

“If you keep frowning, you’ll crease your makeup,” Yije points out helpfully. Junghee shoots him a glare.

“I’m the one who wanted to stay here until the ceremony, but I know how my dad and his friends can be,” she says, looking like she wants to rub at her forehead. “I just can’t stop worrying about him.”

She glances at Yije. He must have a fond expression on his face, because she immediately smacks him on the arm, her curly hair bouncing around her shoulders. 

“Ow,” Yije says, not actually in pain. He pats his arm. “Well, the ceremony is starting soon, isn’t it? You’ll see him then.”

Her eyes widen.

“Oh, what time is it?!” She exclaims. “My assistant hasn’t come back yet!”

\--

Somehow, Yije ends up relaying messages from Junghee to the rest of the wedding crowd and helping corral everyone into the church hall until it’s bursting with the crowd. He takes his seat on the groom’s side – it had actually been Ms. Oh who had invited him, but the bride’s side is completely packed with friends of her father, so he graciously fills a chair in Eunsik’s paltrier-by-comparison entourage instead.

He recognizes a few people from the prosecution. Prosecutor Kang is there. He waves at Yije, and Yije inclines his head.

Someone takes a seat next to him.

Yije turns around.

“Na Yije, right?” Seon Minsik’s wife says, extending a hand. 

“Ah,” he says, surprised, shaking her hand without thinking about it. Her palm is cool and dry. She’s wearing an expensive-looking dress, a neutral-toned green that goes down to her ankles, and her brown hair is done up in a bun – she has laugh lines around the corners of her eyes. “Mrs. Seon. I hope you’re doing well.”

She smiles at him. She has a genuine air. He remembers rather liking her, last time they’d met at some hospital function he doesn’t remember. Her attitude towards him had shifted dramatically once he had stopped threatening her husband, and no longer posed a threat to her family. A sudden and surprising well of apology rises in his chest – maybe he’s not as humane a person as he would like to think, indulging in his game with Minsik while his wife waits at home.

In an instant, without even consciously debating it with himself, he decides to keep his relationship with Minsik professional-only from today. A game isn’t fun if he has to feel guilty while playing it.

“My husband talks about you all the time,” Mrs. Seon says, not missing a beat, a pleasant expression on his face. Yije looks at her, surprised. “You’re so handsome, I can see why he likes you.”

“I’m sure he isn’t that kind,” he jokes, setting aside his inner dilemma and smiling, making small talk. He folds his hands in his lap. “I should be apologizing to you for making him work so many late nights.”

“Oh, don’t be,” she says, laughing. She laughs like a crystal bell in sunlight – she’s very, very nice, which only makes Yije’s conclusion more resolute. He had excused their game by not thinking deeply about it, and claiming boredom, as selfish as he’s always been. “Our children are all out of the house, so he only comes home to eat anyways.”

Minsik takes a seat on her other side. He looks around his wife to Yije, raising his eyebrows.

Yije inclines his head politely.

“Were you talking about me?” He says, turning to his wife, smiling at her. The smile looks odd on his features. It’s not the fond smirk he’ll sometimes show Yije. 

Yije feels, once again, like the outsider. 

He is suddenly overtaken by a strange sense of spite, both for himself and for Minsik, who had started their game even when he already has something Yije can only dream of – someone who understands and accepts him, even including the bad deeds he’s done.

Yije shakes himself out of it. It’s not the time or place. He resolves to eat as much of the wedding’s expensive buffet as he can stomach, and then go home, and maybe call his college friend again.

Minsik’s wife watches him with a smile on her face.

\--

The ceremony is lavish – the reception is decadent – Yije eats one too many miniature cream puffs. He licks a spot of cream off his lip and wipes his fingers on a cocktail napkin. He catches Minsik’s eye a little bit away, watching him – instead of smiling like he usually would, he turns away, slipping to the edge of the room in search of the probably equally luxurious washroom.

“Is something the matter?” Minsik says as he’s washing his hands. Yije’s gaze jerks to the mirror. “I feel like you’re avoiding me.”

His tone is polite. He sounds as if he’s talking to an employer who’s also his friend. Luckily, the bathroom is empty.

It’s unlike Minsik to make a move that’s so direct. A thread of unwitting excitement curls through Yije’s body. He’s suddenly very aware of his heartbeat in his chest, but he mentally pulls away, wiping his hands on a paper towel and neatly disposing of it.

“Why would I be avoiding you?” Yije says, folding his hands in front of him, nothing but professionalism on his face. “I apologize if it seemed that way. I’ve just been busy with Ms. Oh’s requests –“

Minsik takes a step forward. Yije takes a step back. He maintains a respectful distance between them. The corners of Minsik’s eyes tighten, and the polite veneer cracks for a moment over his face. He almost looks hurt.

Yije can feel the tile wall against the heels of his dress shoes. 

“Your tie is crooked,” Minsik says, taking another half-step, reaching towards Yije’s collar. Yije catches his wrist in his hand. Minsik inhales with surprise – Yije tightens his grip, exerting pressure with his fingertips.

“I don’t think,” Yije says, his voice cordial, “that’s appropriate, with your wife in attendance,” which should be blunt enough to be a deterrent, except Minsik looks like the clouds have just cleared from his eyes. He blinks at him.

“My wife?” Minsik says. “She has a woman.”

Yije frowns.

“What?” He says.

Slowly, Minsik reaches out again – Yije’s grip slackens out of surprise – he straightens the knot of his navy blue tie, fingertips smoothing over the satin fabric with tangible attachment. Yije is barely breathing.

“My wife and I,” he says, his touch spreading from Yije’s tie to his collar, as though he can’t stop himself, “both come from... families of affluence.”

“I knew that,” Yije gets out. He thinks Minsik must be able to feel his pounding heart through his dress shirt. He hates this – feeling out of control – he hasn’t trusted many people for the past three years, and trusting Seon Minsik has to be one of the crazier things he’s done, but he’s already let the man stick a needle in his chest and re-inflate his lung. 

“We were good friends since we were young,” Minsik continues, taking another half-step forward, pushing his luck more and more. He doesn’t take his eyes off Yije’s face. “And we happen to share certain... inclinations.”

Yije feels his back hit the tile wall.

“You should have told me you were concerned” Minsik says, one hand pressed flat against Yije’s chest. “I would have informed you of our... agreement.”

“Agreement?” Yije breathes. Minsik’s eyes are wide. His pupils are so blown they swallow the dark brown of his irises.

Minsik leans in very, very close. They’ve been this close before, when they were fighting, and Minsik had wanted to make a point, to assert his authority. Yije’s hand grips the edge of the sink to his side as Minsik crowds him fron the front.

“She told me to kiss you,” Minsik whispers, and then he does, a surprisingly quiet press of his lips against Yije’s. Yije’s eyes open as wide as when he had been stabbed. 

Minsik’s mouth is warm and a little dry – his nose knocks against Yije’s – the edge of his glasses frame digs slightly into Yije’s cheek, and his hand slips down to grip Yije’s waist, fingers digging through the fine material of his nicest suit. It’s exhilarating. It feels like the end of their game, and the start of something new.

Yije kisses him back.

He forgets himself for a moment. He moves his mouth slowly, insistently, against Minsik’s – Minsik lets out a noise that sounds like a moan, which is oddly endearing, and Yije takes the upper hand for a moment. He takes the pace under his control. 

And then he pulls away, because – 

“Wait,” he says, inhaling. Minsik looks at him with a disgruntled look. “The door.”

“I locked it when I came in,” Minsik says against the skin of Yije’s neck, pressing his lips to his Adam’s apple, the corner of his glasses pressing into Yije’s jawline. 

“Were you planning this?” Yije says incredulously, his grip tight on Minsik’s shoulders, the endorphin rush making him lightheaded. It’s the same as, and somehow different than, the thrill of completely eviscerating an enemy past the point of recovery, or well-laid plans coming to fruition. Minsik bites at his neck like someone much younger. Yije yelps and pushes him away. “We’re at a wedding!”

“So?” Minsik says, slowly, pressing his lips to the corner of Yije’s mouth. “I didn’t want you to see your college friend again.”

He sounds peeved. Yije almost laughs.

Instead, he loops his arms around Minsik’s neck, basking in the feeling of having control, of the other man moving just how he wants him. The satisfaction sets his blood alight with electricity. He’s a selfish person by nature – his conscience takes any opportunity to cast away the guilt that would keep it shackled.

“Really?” He murmurs, letting Minsik kiss him again, a pleased smile curling his lips. “Shall I tell you about... all the things he did to me?”

Minsik makes an irritated noise and presses Yije against the wall.

\--

Weeks pass.

Not much changes. Now that Lee Jaejun is in prison, and Lee Jaehwan has grown up a bit, there’s no threat to the Taekang legacy – Mo Yira and Lee Jaein carry Yije along with them as they gain power, like a fishing boat riding the swell of a great wave. In the same vein, Yije carries Minsik, along with a few other younger doctors who Minsik sees promise in.

Yije's initiatives are going even more smoothly than he had expected.

Junghee and Eunsik send photos from their honeymoon. They’re in Paris. 

“If they were going to go to amusement parks, they should have just stayed in Korea,” Minsik grouses, leaning around the back of Yije’s desk chair to see his phone.

“Well, it seems like they’re having fun.” Yije says, smiling, setting his phone back on his desk. When Minsik doesn't immediately leave, he twists his head to look up at him. “Aren’t you busy? Don’t you have enough work to do?”

Minsik raises his hands in good-humored surrender.

“Yes, sir.” He says, giving a mock bow.

Yije gives him a deadpan look and turns back to his papers.

Minsik leans over his desk. Yije’s gaze flicks from his fingers, spread on the wooden surface, to his frame, up to his face. He seems happy, as though the two of them are sharing an inside joke.

“Can I,” he says, an annoyingly smug look on his face, “take you out for dinner tonight?”

“Your wife is spending the night with her lady friend?” Yije jokes.

Minsik scoffs at him.

“But it’s a shame, I can’t.” Yije continues, gaze shifting, smiling down at his paperwork. “My sister is coming back to the country for the holidays today.”

Minsik’s smirk falls into a petulant look. He stands up straight and folds his arms.

“She can’t even spare you for one afternoon?” He says.

The corner of Yije’s mouth curls in a placid smile. 

“Maybe another time.” He says, looking back up at Minsik, setting down his pen. He steeples his fingers over the desk. His eyes are innocently friendly, as though he hadn’t kissed Minsik in the elevator this morning and bitten his lower lip until it was red. “Was there something else you wanted to discuss?”

Minsik’s brows flatten out. He cocks his head and gives Yije a look that’s both impassive and reluctantly fond. 

“Tease,” he says, looking at Yije with heavy-lidded eyes, and Yije laughs out loud.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: me writing the end of the fic: *trying to justify to myself minsik calling yije a tease* .. ....... thats just me projecting KAJFLSKDFJ i HATE his energy !


End file.
